Her Gentle Touch
by Miss Wonderfreak
Summary: Roy and Riza have an unsteady relationship as coworkers. Can it ever be anything more?


Her Gentle Touch

a.n. a while ago, I started a different royai deathfic, then my muse decided it hated me, so I stopped. Then it decided it loved me again so I started writing Grief. This was originally the second chapter of the first deathfic, but it was far too light-hearted and fluffy. So I was going to reform each chap to a oneshot, but they linked together, so it became Her Gentle Touch.

2nd Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye stared impatiently at the office door. All was silent except for the sound of pens scratching against paper, and an occasional cough from Havoc. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and Mustang still hadn't come in. All the subordinates were casting fugitive glances at Hawkeye, praying that her wrath would fall onto the colonel when he arrived, and not onto themselves.

At long last, Colonel Roy Mustang stumbled into the office.

"Sir. Where. Have. You. Been." Riza growled, almost inaudibly. Roy winced, and put his hand to his ears.

"Shh… my head." He moaned.

She blinked.

"Your head, sir?"

"Argh! Quiet. And close the blinds. All that sunlight is making my head hurt more." He lurched groggily to his desk, and collapsed.

"Sir, are you… hung-over?" the 2nd Lieutenant questioned, an odd expression on her face.

"Mph. Pretty barmaid. Only couple drinks, not that many…" He trailed off.

Breda and the others were having trouble stifling their giggles at the look on Hawkeye's face.

"I don't think he's well enough to work." Fuery said in a worried tone.

"Everybody, shut up and let me sleep." Roy snapped.

Riza sighed.

"You're right Fuery. Sir! Go home!"

"Are you sure he can drive?" Breda questioned.

"Course I can drive, I drove here didn't I. And besides, the other driver said he had insurance." Mustang mumbled.

Hawkeye groaned.

"You better believe you're working overtime for this one, sir. Come, I'll drive you home."

"Not home. Barmaid still there." Roy muttered sleepily.

The 2nd Lieutenant's eye began to twitch, and Falman started coughing noisily.

"Fine sir, I'll drive you to my apartment, but you obviously cannot work in this condition."

"M'kay." The colonel murmured, rising unsteadily to his feet.

"Sir. We're here." Riza said loudly. "Sir!"

Mustang started, and unplastered his face from the window. He fumbled to open the car door, and then promptly fell face first into the gutter. Hawkeye massaged her temples, and helped him up, then dragged him up the several flights of stairs to her apartment, as the lift was broken. Again.

Inside, she cleaned off the papers from her couch with one sweep of her arm, and half ushered half lifted him onto it. She put a glass of water on the coffee table next to him, then turned to leave for work again, but his hand caught her sleeve.

"Don't go." He pleaded, his eyes bright. Then he leaned over and retched. She bit her lip. On one hand, she should return to work. On the other, she had sworn to always protect her superior, and while he was not in immediate danger, she did feel he was best not left alone. She sighed and came to a decision.

"I'd better get some towels for that." She wrinkled her nose as he retched again.

Riza Hawkeye stared at the colonel's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, so gentle. She had never seen him look that way before, not even when he slept in Ishbal. There, his resting face had been permanently contorted into a painful grimace, as he had thrashed about to escape the inevitable nightmares.

She reached over and pulled the blanket she had thrown over him up to his chin, then hesitantly smoothed his hair back. He mumbled in his sleep.

"Riza…"

She started, and stared at him, unsure as to whether he was awake or not.

"Sir?" she whispered.

"Riza… water…" He moaned.

Normally she would reprimand him for calling her by her first name, but he looked so pathetic and disheveled that she let it go.

"Of course, sir." She handed him the cup.

He drank deeply, then gave it back to her.

"Riza… sorry about this." He mumbled.

"It's fine sir." She sighed.

Sleepily he swatted at the covers.

"Hot…" He muttered.

"Of course, sir." She removed them, and placed a damp washcloth on his forehead. "Better?"

"Hm…" He groaned.

"Riza?"

"Yes sir?"

"Are you afraid of anything?"

She stared at him.

"What's brought this on?"

"When I'm with you… I don't feel scared anymore. Are you scared of anything?"

"Sir, I really think this is an inappropriate topic for us to be discussing…" She tucked her hair behind her ears, and blushed. He felt safe with her too?

"Riza, answer the damn question. And that's an order."

"Well sir, I suppose I'm afraid of death, like any normal human being. I'm scared of the unknown. I've also always been terrified of dentists."

"Dentists?"

"Well frankly sir, it's the drills."

"Hm…"

"What about you, sir?" Although she knew she was inappropriate of her rank, she was curious.

"Me? I'm scared of being alone. I'm worried that one day, everyone will leave me. Maybe that's part of the reason I want to become Führer. So that no one _can _leave me."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise." It just sprang out before she could stop it. But here was the man she loved, lying on her couch, totally at anyone's mercy. She just had to say it. Besides, she doubted he'd remember it the next day.

He half smiled.

"I know." He replied, then closed his onyx eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

He knew? What did that mean? Riza wondered. Her eyes wandered back to his calm face, and she felt her heart soften.

She pressed her chapped lips to his sweaty forehead, and gently whispered.

"Sleep well."


End file.
